amour, ma vie

What more can I do, at this point I can either wait and see your true passion or leave and never turn back.

I deserve more than what you are currently giving.

Call me greedy. Call me ravenous. But I am not in the wrong.

I wish you hadn’t plucked me.

Why keep me if you’re just going to let me wither,

was I not prettier while growing, expanding

I do not want to be flora that will be replaced after the freshness is gone

Toss me to the wind, let me be.

Or keep me,

press me,

Preserve me in the heart of your favorite book,

Place me between the pages of your most wonderful memory,

Treasure me.


Me recuerdas demasiado de mi mas fatal amor.

Un amor que deseo revivir jamás.

Me encuentro preguntado a mi misma, por que te amo así; por que la verdad un anglo-sajón no merece una pasión así.

Siendo franca, tu mereces una aburrida blanca igual que tu. Atole de agua. Bolillo seco. Arroz aguado que nadie quiere.

Deberías agradecer la vida todas las mañanas y noches por haberme conocido. Yo, todo una mujer. Divina feminidad. Una Diosa.

Yo te amo con sinceridad.

Y si algún dia me arrepiento de haberte amado tanto, que así sea, que por lo menos este amor me ha inspirado a escribir versos y mejorar mi labia cada día.

Y si algún dia tu llegas a leer y entender todas estas dedicaciones de amor, no me dará vergüenza.

Que las letras que te he dedicado han sido y serán las mas finas.

Ojala que aprendas mi lengua, la que tanto te encanta sentir pasar sobre tu piel. Para que sepas que soy una gran poeta y escritora en dos mundos.

piedras: melancholia

When I reflect upon my life, I always try to see it from the perspective of an outside force.

Because truly, no one else’s perspective matters. I no longer question “why” I went through or go through things. I just accept my challenges and blessings as they present themselves.

Also really grateful I haven’t been married/had the need to and that I have no kids.


I’ve learned to wash my clothes on rocks since as early as I can remember, probably 10 years old I started to really get the knack of it and at 17, I was pretty skilled.

At 17, I had already made friends with other indigenous and mestizo girls my age from my grandparent’s village. My cousin, them, and I would go as a group together down to the riverbank, hauling either a sack or cart-full of laundry as we walked down the unpaved roads.

We’d be laughing, joking about, well, teenage girl things. Our favorite time to go was about an hour or two before dusk. We knew they’d be almost no “Ama de casas” during the early evenings, meaning we could be free to talk about what we please without fear of being eavesdropped.

I didn’t care about others hearing my conversations, but then again I didn’t live there year-round and being a USC gave me a pass on many things that would be considered offensive if done by others.

The Sun never seems to want to go away when you’re near the equator, I’m glad there are parts on Earth that relatively unscathed by European bull shit.

Our favorite parts of the banks are were the water was the calmest and not so deep. Out of our group of 3-5 girls, only another girl and myself could swim. Both her and I were able to dive into the deeps of the river and find the best rocks to throw and scrub our dirty clothes on.

I recall diving and finding the perfect slab, a bit porous, but not overly so, just enough to be abrasive. I’d grab the slab with both my hands, wiggling it around, and prying it up from the sandy bottom without disturbing the water or bottom too much. Its hard for me to imagine that I actually could go longer than 2 minutes under water while making an extraneous effort to lift a 20 pound slab of rock stuck in clay and sand. It was no deeper than 10-12 feet underwater, but my cousin and the other girls were afraid of the current.

I’d usually help my cousin and dive one for her as well, but sometimes she was a bitch and it was sweet revenge to see her wash her clothes on a not so perfect rock or a boulder.

The best slab should be about 2-3 feet long and wide.

We’d place them against the roots of a tree if the river was overgrown or against a boulder, ensuring ourselves it was sturdy before continuing with our task. Optimal condition is when the river is a little overflowing, enough that the water is at or just above our knees.

  1. Hardest articles should be washed first, as to not tire yourself too quickly. Things such as jeans or towels. (if you were lucky though, your parents owned a small plug in washer for towels and blankets)
  2. You submerge the article of clothing completely, or you had a little bowl to use to scoop up water from the river to pour over the clothes.
  3. All about arm strength, baby. You sprinkle laundry detergent over your clothes and use every muscle in your arm to froth the article back and forth, flipping it over after your done with one side.
  4. Once it is all frothy and suddy, you can either submerge it in the water or use the bowl again.
  5. You twist and squeeze the article until it is barely dripping any water and you throw it into a clean large bucket, sack, or cart.

Maybe some will argue that this is polluting, but I’ll counter argue that polluting is when governments allow transnational corporations to use these same rivers to dump their waste.

If I ever went in the mornings, it was with my grandmother. It was like, a communal event to wash your clothes in the river in the mornings. Almost every woman in town would be there, if she wasn’t there already yesterday. Some would be done with their laundry for the day, sitting at the high banks breast feeding their baby or catching up with a friend or sister. Some women, mostly the older ones, would go shirtless or completely sans-bra. It was a safe place, free of judgement. No men. The only males there, if any, were under 5 years of age.

Matriarchal.

I never experienced anything as similar to that, and I don’t think I ever will again.

I can thank transnational corporations (again), narcos, and politics for that.

Hate men, mostly white, rich men. You ruin everything. I enjoy ruining your cookie-cut life.

06/04 – “Xica da silva”

Vanilla life has been kicking my ass the past 10 days, and I have a 6 day vanilla work day coming up u_u but it does end with 3-day weekend. Most likely will take a technology detox on Catalina Island.


Surprise, surprise. I got back with my ex.

We spent the last weekend fucking, and when we weren’t messing around we were out in nature, cooking, or watching movies. I’ll add that -I- fucked him first the night before I let his silly cock slip inside me again ❤

We talked the day after Father’s Day and put everything on the table. I don’t ask for much, but expect a lot. If that makes sense. I didn’t compromise (I’m not at fault lol), but he did.

Its upsetting to realize that I am profusely in love with this middle-age, capitalist white man. I used to be anti-white in my teens till probably 20; very Chicanx, a self-proclaimed socialist and vocal about issues in the brown community until my abusive ex broke me lol. I wouldn’t even engage with white bois unless it was to humiliate them.

I think in part why I am so enamored by him is because by learning about him, I learn somewhat more about white American culture. As a rule of thumb, I am indifferent towards all new white Americans that I meet. I think the brown narrative default is to hate them, but personally, they don’t deserve that much passion from my part.

I don’t even hate Trump supporters. I just have no respect for them.

I do hate the Eurocentric values that were forced upon us, and the patriarchy. The darker her skin, the more value I place on Her views and desires.

Race doesn’t even exist, its all social constructs created by men and the Catholic Church.

The whites wipe out races, animals, and ecosystems… how do you not deserve to be punished lol. White women have furthered racist rhetoric throughout history, so when it comes to the topic of feminism I don’t really care what they have to say unless they are speaking on behalf of Brown and Black womxn to reach a larger audience.

I do love my boyfriend though, because he is always willing to learn. He has said very insensitive things, but only because no one told him he was wrong and luckily he now has me to make him a better human being 🙂


Currently, I’m contemplating whether to add a minor or double major to my degree. I’m taking summer classes, working, and still have to study for the LSAT! I probably won’t be able to take the LSAT until 2022 it seems like at this rate. I wonder what its like to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth sometimes.

— H

walt whitman

Este es mi diario, de los amores de mi vida y mis mas íntimos deseos.

Aspiro poder escribir versos hermosos y impactante, para compartirlos y enseñar que bonito se siente amar y adorar.

Yo no quise venir a este mundo, no fue mi decision.

Pero al fin al cabo estoy aquí.

Creci en tierras calientes, entre el Sur de California y la Península de Yucatan. He visto al hombre mas humilde, y al hombre con mas poder y dinero que tiempo.

La vida me ha quitado todo, y me ha dado todo.

En mi corazón, se que voy en camino al éxito.

Quisiera compartir mi jornada con ustedes, para que vean como crezco y obtengo mis metas. Aveces siento que tengo el favor del universo, porque ya me ha enseñado lo mas feo de la vida. Ahora me falta ver lo mas hermoso.

El poeta Americano, Walt Whitman, escribió el libro “Leaves of Grass” durante el transcurso de su vida. Muchos veneran a este libro como su autobiografía.

Gracias Walt, porque usted me ha inspirado y usted me da ánimos en escribir casi todos los días.

Yo se que su libro era una obra viviente, siempre mejorando hasta que usted estaba satisfecho; o el día de su muerte.

En mi mente, hay miles de imágenes y memorias que reservo.

Unas buenas, que me traen alegría o placer; otras que me dan miedo y rabia.

Mi vida no es como los de los demás. Y por eso lo relato. Necesito recordarme que yo sufri y gane mi estancia, sino me hare una malagradecida. Y eso repugno.

24

The summers between us.

The age that I am.

At times, I wish that I never met you.

At times, I wonder what would be of my life now, if you were never in it.

I do not want to owe any of my successes to you.


We spoke on Father’s Day and we saw each other for the first time in over 3 months the day after.

When I saw you, it felt as if my heart was a field full of budding flowers that suddenly bloomed. I have only been a fool for one other man, and he ruined me. I fear the same with you.

I don’t want to depend on you. I don’t need your help. I don’t want to owe you anything.

I wanted to hear what you had to say and see if you were sorry. After an hour of hearing you, I asked “why” with frustration and a tear streaming down my face, and another ready to fall. I would have left if I didn’t feel you were sorry, I would have left if I didn’t see you be human for once.

Your eyes weld up while seeing mine, I don’t really remember what you said.

Thats all I wanted to see.

I want an FLR, I want a full and happy life with you.

rome

you are my downfall, I hate to admit it.

what is it about you that brings me to my knees? Figuratively though, because I never let my legs touch the floor when I’m pleasing you.

My balance surprises you sometimes. Leaves you breathless, maybe?

It would be so much better if you didn’t know what you do to me…but a dumb man you are not, even though I lovingly call you my dummy.

I refused to cry for you, or over you, and I held it in for months. One night, it all burst through the stronghold and I cried senselessly, realizing and accepting that you did not love me with the same intensity that I loved you. How foolish I am, for falling in love with you.

I am seeing you today,

and I have to admit I am a little nervous.

As strong as I know I am, you are my downfall.

You are the spear that pierces through me and brings me down. My final blow.

I am not sure what will happen after today.

It feels almost as if this affair was a complicated game of chess.

I am unsure how I was able to get this far. Pure luck, most likely, as that tends to be the foundation of all my successes. Because I don’t know anything about this game, I played it cool. But I had you fooled though, in the first half, enough to make you nervous and believe that I did.

now its me who’s nervous, I have no counsel. but god, do I love a challenge and the adrenaline of having everything on the line.

reina

I love it when your balls are completely vulnerable for me.

2 almost-oval balls encased a fragile sack of pink flesh.

I love squeezing them while I’m sitting on your face. I like it when you jump and enjoy feeling you wince while you’re ceremoniously munching away at my pussy.

You eat me out with desperation every time I induce pain.

I love it!

I ❤ watching your cock throb and thrust helplessly in the air while I’m sitting on my throne and leaning back on your headboard. I like playing with your precum, gently pressing my index finger on the tip of your cock, and lifting it up with your clear wetness clinging on

Sometimes, I’ll suck your cock and squeeze your balls, while im riding your face. Depending on my mood. I enjoy seeing your toes curl for me.

Feeling you gasp for air beneath me.

licking and eating away. ravenous for me.

“Your face is my forever throne; your mouth and tongue, slaves to my Pussy.”

Con cariño,

Tu Diosa.

blue

I used to be afraid of looking into a set of blue eyes. They used to intimidate me. I found them frightening, and not beautiful. Whenever I had to meet their gaze, I couldn’t help but think afterward how many women and men saw blue before their downfall.

I won’t lower my own eyes out of fear anymore. I have realized my black eyes are more intimidating than any shade of sky.

They say eyes are the window to the soul.

The clarity in yours cannot occult the pureness of your heart.

Your sweetness oozes out.

Blue isn’t scary anymore.

especially when they’re gazing up at me.

Niño. Puppy.

amor

Señor,

Licenciado,

Amor.

Que soy yo mas que una tonta niña,

profundamente enamorada de Usted.

Escribiendote versos en mi cuaderno, suspirando,

pensando,

en Usted.

Si usted fuera mi maestro, lo viera cada día después de clase

me sentaria sobre tus piernes,

meneandome,

solamente para verlo sonrojar

y gozare al sentir su pasión duro

debajo de mi.

“Sir”

capitalista

hombre blanco

la causa de la desgracia de civilizaciones en su cenit.

Señor mañoso,

que tomo ventaja de mi juventud y curiosidad.

Para despojarme de cada petalo de mi flor.

ay, pero amor

a la misma vez dándo mi cuerpo de beber

de su saliva dulce,

y del tan leve salado de su sudor.

como caen sus gotas sobre mi cara,

sobre mi cuerpo liso,

bañandome,

empandome,

haciendo mi cuerpo relucir contra la luz de luna.

Sentiendote adentro de mi,

llenándome,

completándome;

cierro mis ojos, sonrio,

y te rezo

agradecida con usted por sedar mi sed.

Como si fueses Tlaloc y yo,

un campo lleno de flores, deseando brotar.

ay, pero Señor

no me llenas

te necesito cada alba,

cada noche

cada caloroso atardecer.

Ay, maestro

mi cuerpo joven se acostumbraron a sus manos sabias,

suaves, grandes, y pesadas.

escribes sobre mi

mas secretos de noches de locura y pasión.

Ay Señor,

enseñame amor de antaño.

Como se siente Señor,

de cautivar y ilusionar,

el corazón de esta niña mujer.

Tlaloc,

Mi Dios,

estoy muriendo de sed.


Señor marinero,

cai en tus redes sin darme cuenta.

Y al alzarme a tu barco,

viste a esta sirena encuerada y asustada.

Señor marinero,

te ruego que me dejes ir.

No me mires con esos ojos serenos y maduros,

que veo en su profundidad la lujeria que quema dentro

de ti.

Me tienes en tus redes,

sin pensar en mi.

narciso (2)

I miss seeing you throw your head back. pleasure, ecstasy. amusement, laughing.

I miss you seeing you with your hands behind your head. on the couch while talking to me, nonchalant. standing or kneeling down for me, inspection. laying down completely, when I’m taking you to heaven.

Every morning I say a prayer, thanking God for making us 2 generations apart. You would have been my downfall if I knew you when you were 24.

You went to law school the year I was born.

This will sound fucked, but I loved calling you Dad.

I loved it when I felt like baby with you. You loved it when I took control at night and screamed “Daddy” while on top of you.

I know I drive you crazy. Both good and bad. You say I remind you of you; you’re a narcissist so maybe you did love me one day.

how terrible it is to conceal passion.

im sorry you will die without experiencing what it is to love without limitations.

I hope you never marry or have children before we cross paths again

I hope we forget each other so we can have a chance.

There’s no way this is it.


When will I forget you? I dream of those arms wrapping around my waist, making me squirm like a serpent while in your embrace. you dominating me with those big hands, reaching for my sex, cupping it, sliding a finger into me.

I want to whimper for you again,

crumble and gush for you.

open my mouth for you,

swallow your love.